


don't let it go unsaid

by ayanthos



Category: Persona 3
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23017192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayanthos/pseuds/ayanthos
Summary: Shinjiro gives Mitsuru a hand with her hair.  They talk about times long gone.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	don't let it go unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> i wish we had gotten more interactions between them

He catches her in the hallway, brow creasing as she reaches behind her neck to try and twist long strands of hair into a neat bun. It's a vain attempt, one that ends in failure as slender fingers struggle to keep hold of each thick twist, and the look of frustration that settles on her face is one he so rarely sees from the ever-composed Kirijo Group heir even after all their years.

Draping his apron over the back of the couch, he steps up to her and, without a word, takes hold of her hair between his calloused thumbs, fingers deftly wrapping them together with dexterity unexpected of a man as coarse and large as he is. Her surprise turns to soft acceptance as she recognizes the familiar slope of his shoulders and his own, far more tousled, hair.

"Shinjiro."

He doesn't reply immediately, attention fixed on the braid that slowly forms between his fingers. Pull, twist, wrap, repeat. They're actions he's done aplenty--not that many in their dormitory would have ever guessed.

"Still haven't learned how yourself yet, huh."

It's not a question, not when he'd seen the answer firsthand, and Mitsuru simply dips her head in acknowledgement, not an ounce of shame or embarrassment in her voice. "There was never a need for it, and never the time."

She never would have let the first stop her, not this woman with her spine of steel and eyes burning fire-bright - despite the icy preferences of her Persona - but the second she had fewer ways to fight. Between her duties as the Kirijo Group heir, student council president, and unofficial leader of SEES - before their leader had stepped in, of course - she'd been pulled in so many different directions it was a wonder she hadn't snapped and immediately withdrawn inside herself.. He'd thought her crazy for it before, watched her warily from a distance before. Now that he's closer, he can see the lines underneath her eyes, and the way she lets her palms rest on the surface of the hallway table for a moment too long. He wonders if she's always been that way and he'd just been too angry to notice, or if the conflicts of the past year had started settling around her shoulders like leaden weights.

Wonders if he had contributed to the weight that now threatened to pull her down and consume her.

His fingers still as both attention and memory wander, away from the dorm lounge and down paths unilluminated by warmth and friendship.

She speaks up again, startling him out of his downward train of thought. .

"I'm surprised you even know this much. You don't strike me as the type of person to learn how to braid hair and make daisy chains for no good reason."

Her tone is light, kept carefully neutral, and he knows that she's doing her best to keep things conversational and minimize any pressure to reveal anything he's not yet ready to. He's always been the moody one and she ever considerate of her peers. Akihiko had always been the glue that kept them together, his boisterous push-forth behavior enough to become the bridge between the two of them. And what had kept Akihiko together, and moving forward all these years…

"I had to learn for Miki." He keeps his own tone equally neutral, though he knows it takes far more effort for him than it does for Mitsuru. Most thought him uncaring, disaffected by the goings-on around him, but his weakness had always been that he cared, usually too much. "Akihiko could never get it to stay even."

Too impatient, too action-oriented, even as a child of eight. 

"Miki." She murmurs the name, thoughtful. "Akihiko's biological sister, correct?"

One, two, wrap. He'd known Mitsuru's hair to be long, but it's made more obvious now as he works with it. Long, but healthy, a fact unsurprising given all the resources at her disposal. High-end hair salons, fancy shampoos....suddenly he's acutely aware of his own (far less healthy) hair, fraying every which way from the slapdash ponytail he'd put it in half an hour earlier. Not that he really gives a shit what anyone else thinks but...hard not to compare when someone so vastly different stands a foot in front of him. 

"Yeah, she was."

_Was_ , because she'd died in the fire that the two boys had survived. One fire out of surely many in the country, but it had left a gaping hole in both of them, one that had never healed over and one that still festered deep inside Akihiko.

"She must have been very lucky, to have the two of you there to support her."

Shinjiro's head snaps up, startled gaze meeting Mitsuru's own in the mirror as he searches for a trace of mockery. There's nothing in her frank gaze but honesty. She's not the type to lie, that much he knows, but neither is she the type to drop compliments like candy onto the laps of children. He looks back down, the tips of his ears tinging pink, and offers back no answer. Thank god the lightbulb in the hallway had burned out just this morning, yet to be replaced. He can only hope her sharp eyes won't catch the change--and he changes the subject as he twists his handiwork into a loose bun.

"Got something to keep this all up with?"

Wordlessly, she waves one hand towards the scattered pins that rest on the countertop. One by one he takes them, grimacing ever so slightly as he tries not to jab her scalp as he affixes everything in place. It's work that takes more than just a few seconds, compounded further by the time he spends eying it all critically. Expert hairdresser he may not be, but he's not about to let Mitsuru walk out looking like she's just been attacked by a kid's makeover party.

Least of all because he considers her a friend.

He grunts his approval, accepting her quiet murmur of thanks as he watches her prepare to leave, waiting until she's halfway out the door before speaking up again.

"Think we both would've been happy if she'd turned out like you though."

And _that_ startles her, enough that she pauses with the door wide open, shoulders momentarily stiff. Then they're relaxing again, and though she doesn't turn back he sees her dip her head down in a nod. 

"Thank you, Shinjiro. I'll see you again tonight."

The door closes behind her, a soft click that lingers in the air. He stares at it a moment longer before he turns away.


End file.
